


crown of roses (world of thorns)

by dats__gayyy, queerio_gaymer



Category: Original Work
Genre: Coming of Age, F/F, Fantasy, Humor, every character in this story is a dumbass in their own way (and i love them all), more characters added as they appear, nonbinary villager, the princess and rebel, title likely to change?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24183469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dats__gayyy/pseuds/dats__gayyy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerio_gaymer/pseuds/queerio_gaymer
Summary: The cart jostles, wheels groaning like live beasts agonizing over the strain their brethren, the horses, are putting them through. Tawny dust mucks the air, a surly fog that dogs their tracks.Evelyn wipes futilely at the bead of sweat trickling down her neck and sighs.In all the plotting of her grand adventure, she hadn’t accounted for such… mendacity. Alas.The driver of the cart spares her a sidelong glance. “You’re a fool.” They shook their head, dark curls flopping. “You know that, right?”The girl seated in the back of the cart, legs dangling over the edge, startles. She’s done that rather a lot in the scant few hours they’ve been traveling, Evelyn muses. Like a skittering pantry-mouse. She taps her foot and wonders if any of those have managed to tag along in the crated wares.“Ashe!” the girl’s blue eyes are wide. “She’s the princess!”Ashe shrugs. “Fine. A royal fool, then. Is that better?”
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

The cart jostles, wheels groaning like live beasts agonizing over the strain their brethren, the horses, are putting them through. Tawny dust mucks the air, a surly fog that dogs their tracks.

Evelyn wipes futilely at the bead of sweat trickling down her neck and sighs.

In all the plotting of her grand adventure, she hadn’t accounted for such… mendacity. Alas.

The driver of the cart spares her a sidelong glance. “You’re a fool.” They shook their head, dark curls flopping. “You know that, right?”

The girl seated in the back of the cart, legs dangling over the edge, startles. She’s done that rather a lot in the scant few hours they’ve been traveling, Evelyn muses. Like a skittering pantry-mouse. She taps her foot and wonders if any of those have managed to tag along in the crated wares.

“Ashe!” the girl’s blue eyes are wide. “She’s the _ princess! _ ”

Ashe shrugs. “Fine. A royal fool, then. Is that better?”

The girl titters, but before the two can devolve into the joyous melody of inane bickering, Evelyn intercedes.

“I appreciate your willingness in allowing me to accompany you, good ser,” she says gracefully, bowing her head. It’s enough to charm even a stone, and fleetingly she wishes Master Grayhart could hear her now. But her former tutor is a cold-blooded taskmaster who would sooner eat carrion than concede a positive emotion, so - the feeling passes.

“And I appreciate your coin.” Ashe huffs, staring out at the grassy plains stretching before them. “And the kingdom’s aid in rebuilding after the flood.”

Evelyn hums. River’s End was small, a backwater in all respects, but it had captured her late father’s interest. He’d wanted to build a bridge nearby to extend the road over the river, cutting off a half-day’s travel time and connecting the village to other routes. More trade meant more tithes. A bridge over the waterfall would also make for a much statelier entrance to the kingdom, though when a younger Evelyn had mentioned it her father had waved a hand dismissively.

Regardless, they hadn’t the means to irrigate the flood-prone area properly, and the kingdom has more pressing issues nowadays.

“It is the kingdom’s duty to look after all the lands under our patronage. A good leader wouldn’t dare turn a blind eye.”

Ashe is silent. Evelyn decides not to read overmuch into it.

The rhythm of the cart lulls the princess into a contemplative mood. They’d put enough distance that the mountains were only just taller than the shrubbery that dotted the plains. It felt odd, the absence of their imposing looming. It had been… how long, since she had last traveled? Years, before the disarray in the wake of her father’s death. 

And to have the chance again, venturing on her relative own, secreting herself away - it was thrilling. 

By now the castle will have realized her vanishing. Evelyn supposes it will have been a maid who found the note upon her pillow:  _ I have much on my mind - ridden to the falls for the day to clear my head.  _ It has a whisper enough of truth - her mood has suffered for days, given recent events - that it will be taken at face value. Her mother will likely feel guilty and bid the knights to leave her daughter be. 

Evelyn feels a twist in her gut at that, her heart racing like a jackrabbit in her chest. It’s a silly reaction, really; certainly more the queen deserves. Regardless, by the time Evelyn’s deception is realized and River End’s cartier gives them her more honest message, she’ll have gained almost a day’s advantage. And when they figure out where she has truly gone, who knows? Perhaps she’ll be in the grand city-state of Orisdrecht already. 

Humming breaks the trail of her thoughts. The girl in the back of the cart carries a simple tune, smiling nervously when she catches Evelyn’s eye. “Sorry. The first part of these journeys are always dull, before we get closer to other villages. I...I can stop, if you want?”

Evelyn shakes her head. “Not at all. We’re of the same mind, in fact, though - I can only imagine, with countless trading trips under your belt, how monotonous riding must be, miss…?”

She exaggerates her manners, with how timid the girl is, and is rewarded with a small smile.

“Tallyn, milady. I could teach you the tune, if you’d like?”

Ashe groans.

“Music livens the soul,” Tallyn quietly grumbles, frowning at the burly driver’s back.

Evelyn can’t tell if the sound Ashe makes is a scoff or a sigh. “My soul is feeling perfectly lively. If it got any livelier, it’d be pouring out my ears.”

Evelyn laughs at that, but quickly turns it into a cough at Tallyn’s deepening scowl. “Well, if singing is a bridge too far, perhaps we could settle at storytelling?” 

“Hmm.” 

Evelyn supposes that’s as close as they’ll get to an assent. “Any harrowing adventures to tell, Tallyn?”

The girl’s eyes shine, and she hoists herself up to sit cross-legged on the cart. “Oh, I don’t know…” The fact that she’s nearly bouncing in place belies otherwise. “One time we got attacked by a bear!”

Evelyn’s brows shoot up. “Goddess!” The giant pelt that had been mounted on the stone wall of her father’s study hangs in her mind. How many times had she stared up at it as her father labored late nights over his papers, fantasizing about the fierce wonder outside the castle bounds with an excited breathlessness? But her father had never been as interested in recounting his hunts as he had the deals that had been negotiated during them. “Why did it attack? Are they such bloodthirsty creatures as that? How did you manage to fend it off?” Her imagination whirls faster than the wheels of the cart.

Tallyn grins, delighted at her interest in the story. “This was a few years ago. Right, Ashe?”

Ashe grunts. “Three. Before the Empire was gnawing at our borders.”

The conquest had been centered in the north at that point, if Evelyn recalls. Though the entire continent felt some effects of the Empire’s burgeoning, and now their ascendancy, no matter where their focus lay at the given moment. Even the isolated draconic nomads that roamed on the other side of the Driax’s Teeth range had taken heed, their raids increasing in frequency on Gillea’s western-most lands. It makes it hard to remember if there ever truly was a ‘before the Empire.’

“It was after the harvest. Those are always our biggest trade runs, and that season had been drier than usual. River’s End still managed a decent crop, since we’re on the banks of the Vegreshall, and after our tributary and taking care of our own, we had enough left over to sell to an inland village.” Tallyn’s gaze goes dreamy. “There were seven of us. Believe me when I tell you there was never a boring moment.”

Ashe turns around at that, and they  _ almost  _ look like they’re smiling. “Says the one who puked all their small beer into Alfred’s hat.”

“I...I didn’t… I don’t think I did any such thing!” the teen protests, face going red. She crosses her arms over her chest, brow furrowing.

Ashe does actually chuckle at that, his attention going back to the horses. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t remember that. Poor Alfred can’t forget.”

Evelyn wonders if all village folk are so foolhardy. “So...the bear attack?” she ventures, curiosity burning.

“Right!” Tallyn claps her hands together, expression softening in relief at the redirection. “Well, it was a two-and-a-half day trip, and on the very first night we made camp near a grove of trees. I don’t know whether it was our dinner that attracted the beast, or our harvest. We were asleep, and Urian was on watch for any roving highwaymen. He...got himself in a...state.”

“He was drunk as a rat in an ale barrel, the idiot.” 

Tallyn nods. “He’s learned from his mistake, but if anyone had been out there...” She shudders. “He fell asleep, and by the time he woke the fire was naught but embers. He got up to go rouse the next watch, and that’s when he heard rustling by the wagon. He ambles over and sees a massive shadow darker than the heart of a Wicked One, with glowing eyes --”

“I don’t think I’d ever heard quite as high-pitched a scream before,” Ashe muses, and Tallyn bristles at the interruption.

“Perhaps you’d like to finish the story, then,” she says in a tone that is clearly attempting to be neutral but falls short.

Ashe shrugs. “There’s not much left to tell. The beast was just as scared as he was. Took a few swipes on his dash out, but by dumb luck alone the worst we suffered were some cuts and one bruised ego. And lost grain, damn it all.”

Tallyn heaves a sigh at the anti-climatic ending. “Urian did get a scar on his shoulder.”

Evelyn blinks, wrapping her head around it all. The bear had just been an opportunistic scavenger? Her father’s collected pelt rises to mind, the empty space where its eyes staring hollowly through her memory to haunt her now. “I thought...”

Ashe seems to sense her confusion. They slow the horses, all five of whose backs are darkened by a sheen of sweat. “Not much will attack you outright, in the wild.” They lean back, rolling their shoulders, voice quieter. “Only people.” 

No one speaks for a moment. The breeze ripples through the tall grass, flowers of azure, gold, and crimson swaying to and fro.

Tallyn excuses herself to give water to the horses, hefting the large jug with surprising ease.

Evelyn watches the swallows dip and dive. 

“I didn’t realize…” She sounds strange to her own ears, so she clears her throat and starts again. “No one told me the roads could be perilous.”

“Hmm. Regretting your decision, princess?” Their tone is even, but Evelyn frowns all the same, affronted.

“No! I-- no.” This journey is something she  _ has  _ to do. She’s never been more certain of it, despite the added risk. “Just...get me to the crossroads. If you pass any Gillean knights afterwards, you had no involvement.”

There’s a curse and the sound of sloshing water, then a faint scolding.

Ashe eyes her. Evelyn doesn’t know what they’re looking for, but those moss-green eyes withhold anything discernable. 

“I wouldn’t have agreed to this - I still am not at peace with my choice, however… You aided River’s End when we were in need, and… You gave Astrid a chance. Even with her condition. Most people in our own village look at her leg and disregard her, the poor lass.” The words are terse, scratchy, but Ashe’s eyes gleam. “Her own parents don’t know what to do with her, all because she’s different.”

Evelyn shakes her head. “We’re honored to have her. I’m convinced she’ll make us a great horsemaster, one day.” It had taken more than a fair amount of persuading and needling. For all the Queen was willing to listen to others, she did not extend that same predilection to her daughter. 

But Evelyn had been next to certain she’d witnessed a miracle the day she’d run into Astrid. She’d been taking the sons of some visiting dignitaries out for a sightseeing canter, and the rude son (Evelyn has since forgotten his name, and they’d not made any returning visits) had demanded to ride the most magnificent horse they had, a wiley stallion. His nicer brother was content to ride a geld, and Evelyn chose her favorite mare, who at twenty was nearly as old as Evelyn herself. They’d grown up together, and Evelyn trusted her more than many of the attendants in the castle.

That is to say, it hadn’t been a surprise when they neared the falls that the stallion bucked and bolted. They chased the direction he’d gone. Unable to keep up, they feared him lost, only to find him an hour later, eating a crabapple out of a young woman’s hand while she stroked his nose idly, soothing him with soft whispers.

She had smiled sadly when questioned on the feat.  _ He was merely scared, milady. And his fear overcame the pain of the spur and the tightening of the bit. He just needed someone to listen.  _

The rude son scoffed, but when the day was done Evelyn had ridden back and asked her if she’d be interested in becoming a stablehand. 

It was as if she’d offered Astrid all the gold in the kingdom. The woman had beamed, dropping the laundry in her arms and limping over to hug the princess. And in her time serving the castle, her unflinching dedication and gentleness has only strengthened Evelyn’s esteem.

“Aye, she will at that. She’s a good lass, and you are too.”

Evelyn startles at the compliment. She can’t… remember the last time someone said she was a ‘good’ anything, at least not genuinely, not in an effort to cajole her into some task. And to hear it from someone who seemed allergic to any sort of cheerful outlook, well.

“I thought I was a fool?” she jokes, still trying to recover her composure.  _ That  _ is closer to what she’s heard growing up. The little misguided princess, her ideas too whimsical to be entertained, too unreliable to simply spend her days sitting prettily being told what to do as the queen does. 

Ashe smiles. “I don’t take it back. Whatever else this is, it is foolishness. But I suppose you’re both. A good fool. There are worse things to be.” They stretch, joints creaking. “Whatever it is you’re up to, just be sure to keep your head attached to your shoulders.”

Evelyn shakes her head. “The only whiff of danger is in this trip.” And even then, only until she can make it to the heavily patrolled main road. The city, as a neutral state, allowed no soldiers within its walls.

“Good. Prince Dominic would have all our heads, otherwise.”

Evelyn’s heart stops, all the breath leaving her lungs. How had Ashe heard of that? She herself had only learned little more than two weeks prior. That conversation did...not go well. But negotiations between Gillea and Ylessia had not yet been settled and thus, it was not supposed to be known.

Evelyn looks down at her hands, bare of any adornment.  _ Betrothed.  _ The word feels so damned heavy. She’d be giving up her name, and how much more along with it?

“I’ll…” Evelyn hates the quiver in her voice. “I’ll be back before notice could even get to him.” Not that anyone would be eager to inform the other kingdom of her sudden disappearance.

The soft shuffling sound of footsteps mark Tallyn’s return. She all but leaps onto the cart. “I overheard you speaking of the prince. You must be so excited, milady! I caught sight of him once when we were visiting the village of Alryne. He’s so handsome, he set all us into a tizzy!”

A lump lodges in Evelyn’s throat. “I-I’m going to stretch my legs,” she chokes out, swinging her legs over the side of the cart and stumbling down. 

The villagers exchange words that Evelyn doesn’t catch as she makes her way to the edge of the road, wading into the tall grass. It’s up to the knees of her traveling trousers and pulls at each step. She focuses on that, on the unceasing buzz of life around her, the few trees to the left that will eventually give way to the lush forest that engulfs Gillea’s eastern border, the hazy boundary where earth turns to sky.

It’s so easy here, Evelyn thinks, reaching for a violet bloom, to believe the world is endless. The petals bow to her touch.

But it isn’t true, is it? The world is closed in by war and hunger and duty and survival. By what needs to be done, and not what could be.

And that is what she resolves to do for her kingdom, as she releases the flower, continues on. 

What is necessary.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

As the afternoon stretches on, sun hanging low over the treeline, the country road begins to see more travelers filtering in from other offroads. A letter carrier canters by without as much as a spare glance, face ruddy from a full day of riding. Wagons plod on. Tallyn cheerfully waves at each of them, grinning widely whenever they wave back.

It’s heartening. Even though she knows there’s still a day’s distance to the Crossroads, it  _ feels  _ like success, like something Evelyn can hold in her hand.

And it breaks the awkwardness that had fallen over the cart after her sulking off. Had she had even a pint more grace, she could have saved them all from the snippets of stilted smalltalk. But instead, she’d gifted them with heavy quiet and quick, questioning looks. 

It isn’t fair. After all, Dominic is to be their king - her king. The politics of the decision, the hurt feelings… the chance for a more secure future with their hands joined pales all else in comparison.

And if it feels as if all different hands are walling her in brick by brick, well: Evelyn will at least decide what she does with herself within her confines. Even the Dracoking himself, the most fiendish of all the Wicked Ones, couldn’t subdue her into such encompassing passiveness as the kingdom’s counsel seem to expect of her once they marry her off. 

Let this be a reminder to them to keep on their toes, Evelyn thinks with a defiant grin.

A shriek jolts the princess to attention. 

It’s Tallyn. Her eyes are wide as millstones, and she points to the right. A group of travelers clusters around what looks like a stand, though Evelyn can barely see it through the crowd. On the roadside ahead, a marker is staked, a fox-red ribbon tied to it.

“Pull the cart over!” Tallyn stands on wavering legs, bounding over to Ashe and taking hold of their arm. “Pleeease!”

Evelyn expects Ashe to grumble, but they tug the reins, the corner of their mouth turning up. They guide the horses into the shade beneath a knotted tree. The cart lurches as they wheel over the protruding roots, but Tallyn keeps her footing, jumping and running off before they even roll to a stop.

Ashe chuckles, and catching Evelyn’s bemused expression, explains shortly, “It’s a fruit stand.”

“Fruit?” Evelyn echoes, watching all the commotion. Tallyn wiggles her way past the others and out of sight.

“Kald’s harvests yield the best fruit... that any of us common folk will ever taste.” Ashe rolls their shoulders, stepping down and turning to Evelyn. “At the very least, it’s a chance to stretch your legs. It won’t be until after nightfall that we stop for good.”

Evelyn needs no convincing. Curiosity guides her feet. It’s the first time she’s been  _ out,  _ with no escort, and with her title tucked away she’s free to simply be. 

She ‘pardon-me’s her way into the thick of things. People chat idly. A boy races about, his mother scolding him half-heartedly as he wears himself into what is sure to be a quiet ride home. A trio of merchants guffaw, passing around a canteen of what most definitely is not water. 

Taking in the revelry, Evelyn isn’t watching where she’s going and collides hard with someone’s shoulder. She stumbles, but a hand on her elbow steadies her.

“Apologies.” The voice, paradoxically, is soft. 

Evelyn shakes her head. “No, the apology is mine alone, I--”

But before she can finish, before she can even get a proper look at whoever this is, they’ve turned, hurrying away. They wear a bulky cloak, meant for winter Evelyn guesses, though it isn’t lined with furs so not fit for a Gillean winter.

Well. It isn’t the worst first impression she’s made, and no one tuts at her or pays her any heed at all, so she puts the encounter out of mind and forges on.

Stand, Evelyn comes to find, is a misnomer. Several barrels are lined up underneath an adroitly pitched sunshade. There’s apples, pears, even plums. Her mouth waters on sight.

Tallyn chatters with a man who appears to only be a few years older than Evelyn. His auburn hair is streaked with blonde bleached from long days in the sun, slightly long and tied into a short ponytail, his face sown with charming freckles. 

As she nears, the man’s chestnut eyes fall to her, glancing her up and down and smiling warmly. “You’re a new face around here.”

Tallyn rocks on her heels, apple in hand. “Awh, ah foehot!” The redhead quirks a brow at her, so the girl swallows her bite. “I forgot to tell you! Garret, this is the-”

“Evelyn,” the princess cuts off smoothly, catching herself before she can curtsey. Tallyn grimaces sheepishly. “Pleased to meet you.”

“How sweet,” Garret says, smile widening. He wipes his hands on his shirt before placing them on his hips. “We don’t get visited by nearly enough sweet girls around here.”

There’s a scoff somewhere over Evelyn’s shoulder, and Ashe sidles up, arms tight across their broad chest. “And you won’t be, if you scare them all off.”

Garret’s face lights up. “Ashe, you lout, it’s been too long. Staying in trouble, I hope?”

Ashe lifts a shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. “Staying alive, that’s all.”

“Hmm. Good enough, I suppose.” His smile twists into a good-natured smirk, fingers drumming on his hips, and Evelyn has a feeling she knows there’s more to that answer. “I’ve been well, since I know you were just about to ask. Better now, for present company,” he teases, and winks at Evelyn. “Pleasantries aside - you two, make yourselves at home; miss, you need something to eat. See anything that strikes your fancy?”

Evelyn flushes at the attention. The redhead beckons to her, so she takes a few steps closer, casting her gaze from barrel to barrel. Her companions wander as she considers. 

“So, Evelyn…” Garret picks out a plum, tossing it into the air and catching it with practiced ease. “You’re not from River’s End.”

It isn’t a question. Evelyn’s heart skips a beat. “What makes you so sure?”

Garret throws another plum in the air, then another. He juggles them, and Evelyn can’t help but be mesmerized for a moment.

“I can name more than half their villagers, either from acquaintanceship or gossip that gets passed along. Someone like you--” He slings one of the fruit too wide, and his fingers just graze it before it drops to the ground. “Damn.” He catches the others, focusing his gaze back on the princess. “Someone like you, people would talk about. Nonstop, probably.”

Evelyn gulps, nervous. “I-I don’t think that’s- true?” She curses how flustered she sounds. On the Goddess’ golden temple gates, she’s not about to be found out before she even sets foot in Orisdrecht! “You’re right, though. I...need to visit a dear friend, but I hadn’t the means to do so on my own. I was fortunate to gain Ashe and Tallyn’s aid in that. They’ve been nothing but wonderful.”

Garret chuckles in disbelief. “Sounds like you have a very peculiar definition of wonderful.”

“So I’ve been told.” She can’t help a small smile. She leans over the edge of a barrel, a pleasant earthy scent wafting to her nose.

Garret rests his hip on the barrel next to her. “Two for two. I’m going to go for broke on this last one-”

Evelyn laughs. He reaches into the barrel he’s leaning against, grabbing out a pear out and spinning it on his index finger.

“And say that you’re a pear kind of girl.” The fruit is offered to her, chartreuse and plump. It looks as if it’s been plucked from a painting.

Had they been anywhere near a fount, Evelyn might have guessed him to be a sorcerer with his ability to enthrall. Evelyn has only ever seen magic once in her life, more than ten years ago, when her family travelled to the site of the Reckoning, where the Goddess’ apostles had put a bloody end to the holy war. It had been naught but a lonely desert then. Now it is home to the mighty metropolis Rhallir, unparalleled across the continent in grandeur. The people had been cold as the night air, but the city thrummed with magic. And the commemoration of Reckoning - the ghostly conjures that reenacted the final moments of the war, the glimmering lights that hung like touchable stars, the music that swelled when the pale Dracoking was slain… young Evelyn had cried on the return home, begging her father uselessly to stay.

Ashe clears their throat, standing a few feet away with Tallyn at their heels, and Evelyn jumps. How long had they been there?

“We’ll take three of each a piece and be on our way.” There’s something unsettled in their voice, but Evelyn can’t decipher anything in their set jaw and steady gaze.

Garret’s shoulders droop a bit, but he nods, gathering fruit. “I suppose you’ve got far to go, then. No chance I could convince you to stay the night in town?”

“On the way back, lad. We’ve got a far piece to the Crossroads yet, and too much daylight to turn our backs on.” Ashe says, and there’s a genuine note of apology in their tone. They offer coin, and Evelyn hurriedly reaches for her coinpurse. They attempt to wave her off, but the princess won’t have it. If her patronage isn’t good for even a chance snack, then it surely is not good for anything at all.

Garret grins crookedly, slowly wrapping his fingers around the silver coins. “Are you trying to buy me as well? It was the juggling, wasn’t it?”

Evelyn blushes down to her roots. Of course she’d conspicuously overpaid in her haste. “I don’t--”

Tallyn stomps her foot. “I think a whole nother tree has grown since we got here, Garret.”

She hadn’t at first, but yes, Evelyn could definitely see the family resemblance between the girl and Ashe.

“Fine. I’ve had my fun.” Garret rolls his eyes, handing them their goods. When he gets to Evelyn, he bows teasingly. “Milady, a pleasure. It’s not every day that I have the chance to flirt with nobility.”

A chill tickles down Evelyn’s spine. Next to her, Ashe tenses.

What had she done, Evelyn’s mind races, to in so short a time give her secret away so completely?

Tallyn giggles, shrill and too-loud. “She’s not the princess!”

The standkeeper’s mouth actually falls open at that, and Ashe groans, raising a hand to massage their temples. They mutter something under their breath that sounds like  _ too nosy for his own good _ and a rather harsh string of curses _. _

“Obviously,” Ashe growls very, very quietly. “This is a secret that  _ will  _ be kept.”

Garret nods, eyes flitting to Evelyn and then back nervously. “I- yes, of course Ashe. I had no idea...well, I had a faint idea, but it was so.... It’s just that her clothes look freshly tailored, dust be damned - she’s so mannered and talks posh, and--”

“Yes,” Evelyn says, wrapping her arms around herself with a frown. She picks at her tunic, self-conscious. She’d thought it nondescript. “You’ve sufficiently made your point.”

“The princess…” Garret breathes, gazing at Evelyn with incredulous trepidation. “The princess just told me to shut up.” With a shake, he snaps herself out of it. “I can help, of course.”

The three travelers share a look. Tallyn makes a face. Ashe raises a brow. Evelyn sighs.

“What exactly are you proposing?”

A gleam that enters the man’s eyes, and he smiles. “Just come with me.”

* * *

The transformation that Garret puts her through is so thorough that Evelyn is slightly ashamed at her own attempt at disguise. The standkeeper digs through his wagon parked a few paces away, coming up with a surprising amount of odds and ends.

“It’s not a dress, but at least it looks lived in.” He holds up a man’s simple shirt, short-sleeved and threadbare on one of the shoulders. “I’d offer you mine, obviously, but,” he lifts his shirt to his nose, taking a sniff and frowning, “this is far better. Thank the Gods my vain-as-a-peacock little brother took it off before he went hunting today.”

Evelyn flinches at the blasphemous mention of the Gods. Nearer the border there were sure to be pockets of religious dissenters, but still it made Evelyn’s skin prickle with unease. She might not be the most pious adherent of the faith, but the disregard of the Goddess seems so cold, the idea that each fount of magic is an avatar of a different god so...strange. Each fount is a blessing of the Goddess, and the fact that they were disappearing surely a sign of humanity’s erring ways - so it had been preached in the sanctum from Evelyn’s earliest memories. And now that it was gaining a foothold in the Empire, the beliefs were more fraught than before.

Garret turns around as she changes behind the wagon, clapping a hand over his eyes for good measure. The shirt drapes over her, but she ties the waistline to cinch snug to her side, and rolls the sleeves. 

At her signal, Garret turns back around and nods. He kicks up a rough stone and kneels at the princess’ feet.

“I won’t be hanged for dingying up your boots, will I?” he jokes tentatively.

Despite herself, Evelyn smiles. “Banish the thought. If that were the case, I would have been hung ten times over by now.” She looks down at her feet, a tug in her heart. “I fancy these as my lucky boots.” It’s the first time she’s worn them in years.

Garret tilts his head in askance, the corner of his lips twisting up. “They’re fine craftsmanship. What makes them lucky besides?”

“They’re a gift from my father. Right before- before he got sick.” The first and only time she’d worn them had been to his funeral procession. Her heart had been too heavy with grief at the sight of them, and she had tucked them away in her wardrobe. And anyway, she had been too caught up in the day to day business of managing the kingdom (or at least whatever tasks her mother’s counsel would allow her) that she hadn’t had much occasion for riding boots. 

  
  


Garret falters, expression crumpling. “Oh, milady, I’m sorry. He...was a good king.”

Evelyn knows it’s true. Her father had been a capable ruler, efficient and calculating. She had always looked at him with stars in her eyes when he spoke of duty, of stability and the necessity of a leader to be a bulwark against the uncertain tides washing over the continent.

_ ‘A good leader is a guardian,’ her father had told her once on a walk through the gardens.  _

_ ‘Like a knight!’ Evelyn exclaimed, ten and head full of the chivalrous tales she’d beggared off her caretakers. _

_ Her father ran a hand through his golden locks, his eyes crinkling at her enthusiasm. ‘Our enemy is more nebulous: hunger, the maintenance of order.’ _

_ Evelyn, unswayed, had run ahead, finding a fallen stick and bandying it about like a sword as she raced circles around the enchanted rosebush. ‘Onguard, hunger! Back, chaos! I, Princess Evelyn of Gillea, protector of the people, vanquish you!’  _

Evelyn bids the reverie from her mind, crouching next to her companion. She holds a hand out for the stone, and hesitates only the slightest of moments before scrubbing at the toes of her boot.

“Tell me…” Evelyn swallows the lump in her throat. “Tell me about life in the kingdom, as you live it.” She’s curious, of course, but she asks just as much to fill the unbearable silence.

Garret scratches behind his ear, considering. He sits back, biting his lip, then says, “Kald is bountiful. Our location gives us harvests year after year that draw trade, and we are in a good spot for it.”

Evelyn moves on to the next boot as she gathers her thoughts.

“But...men’s minds roam when their bellies are full. We have the Empire to the north, and the free states to the east. Ideas trade, along with our crops.”

“You mentioned the Gods earlier,” Evelyn murmurs, stilling.

Garret nods, eyes meeting Evelyn’s. “We are Gillean to our bones, you understand, but in a way that is different from River’s End. And the edicts--”

Banning trade with the Empire, and later banning heresy. Those, with others such as banning the language of the draco-raiders, were meant to preserve Gillean tradition and the character of the kingdom, the counsel had advised.

It had seemed practical, a wall against threats that loomed beyond their reach. 

“Our advisors worry; the appetite of the Empire for more conquest grows season after season.” And Gillea makes for an attractive prize: fertile plains, a small standing army, rural and unremarkable soas not to irk more fearsome enemies into attention. Except Ylissia, buffering them from the Empire’s closest stationed fortress. Military Ylissia, who had carved their homestead on the more rocky north and whose hearts had never forgotten the blood that won their place.

Ylissia, their to-be savior.

Garret frowns. “Surely it’s the lance of their soldiers and not the prayers of their people that are our enemy.”

Evelyn...can’t think of a good response to that.

After a long beat of silence, she tosses the stone aside, smoothing a palm over her now scuffed boots. She wishes - well. What if some brigand had attacked them, and found out she was the princess? Or if gossip had spread that a noble passed through without a guard, with who knows who taking an interest? ‘Dingying up’ her shoes is the least of her worries.

Garret suggests she take down her hair and braid it in a less regal style. Evelyn combs through her fawny locks with gentle fingers, loosening the plaits her waiting maid had put in the day before. 

“Aaaand done!” Garret announces when she’s tied her hair in an easy bun. He leaps to his feet and helps Evelyn up, passing a critical eye over their combined work. “You look fetching, of course, but much less suspicious.”

Evelyn wipes the dirt from her trousers. “Thank you, Garret,” she says, inclining her head. They begin walking back to the cart, where Ashe and Tallyn are waiting. “I appreciate your help. You’ve got a keen eye for detail.”

Garret laughs, though he stands taller with the compliment. “I have experience. Sneaking out, being rowdy...in my youth.”

Somehow, Evelyn doesn’t buy that the man has buried his mischievous streak.

When they arrive, Ashe looks her up and down and nods. 

“No one would think you’re royalty now!” Tallyn remarks as Evelyn hauls herself onto the cart, tucking her discarded shirt aside. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

The poor girl is laying it on thick, her voice a note higher in her nervous guilt. Evelyn smiles at her placatingly.

Garret stands next to the horses, patting the flank of a roan mare.

“Pint’s on me, when we pass through on our way back,” Ashe promises, reigns in hand.

Garret grins broadly. “I’ll hold you to it.” He steps back. “Listen, if you’re going to the Crossroads, there’s a trail on the way to Kald that branches from the road. It’s narrow and not well-cut, but it’ll save time and it’s less traveled.”

Ashe glances to the road, where a caravan is clodding through carrying their harvest. “...How rough a path are we talking about?”

“Well,” Garret taps a finger against his chin, thinking. “There’s certainly no mud, given how dry it’s been recently. Which will mean you can fjord across the Glover easily. And you’ve got more than enough horses to pull your cart up the hills.” 

Because one is meant for Evelyn to ride, when the group parts ways.

“So I’d say, for the capable driver you are, manageable. So long as you don’t stray from the trail, and you stay wary. Though that last advice will be the same no matter which way you choose.”

Ashe harrumphs. “Always do.”

The horses stamp their hooves, awaiting command.

“Safe travels. Well met, as always… and even more so, this time,” Garret adds, winking at Evelyn. “I won’t delay you any longer.”

Ashe flicks the reins, and with a jolt the horses start toward the road.

“Goodbye Garret! Tell your brother hello!” Tallyn shouts, waving. 

Garret salutes, then reaches into his pocket and throws an apple to them. Tallyn stands, taking a teetering sidestep and catching it squarely with a cheer.

Tallyn sighs happily as she takes a seat next to the princess, shining the apple on her shirt and taking a bite out of it. “I’d love him, if he wasn’t so ancient.” Seeing Evelyn’s raised brow, she tacks on, “Er, comparatively speaking.”

They settle back into the rhythmic lull of travel. It seems...quieter now, given the bustle of their stop. There’s others on the road, the sound of their voices occasionally carrying to Evelyn’s ears, hoofbeats and wooden creaks and the like. Still.

A clamor the opposite way draws her attention. A group of walkers, laden with water jugs, shifts to allow two men on horseback maneuver around them. One of them turns in his saddle and says something to them, and the closest, an older woman with a weathered face, smiles.

They seem - something about them draws attention. Closer up, she can see their leather armor, the sheathed broadswords clipped to their saddles. The shields with Gillea’s sigil.

Knights.

Evelyn shrinks as they near. Next to her, Tallyn trembles, grip like a vice on Evelyn’s wrist. If Ashe notices, they say nothing, gaze fixed resolutely onward. 

The friendly knight, eyes curious, dips his head. “Good day, fellows!”

Tallyn is silent, so Evelyn lifts a hand, willing her expression to remain calm --

And they pass.

Evelyn lets out a breath, lowering her hand to rest over her staccato heart.

Nothing is said. Evelyn isn’t sure she could hear, anyway, given the jangle of worries clamoring in her mind.

They sit, and with the steady  _ clop clop clop clop _ of the horses’ trod they move forward. After a time, Evelyn regains her wits, though she feels as if lightning has shot her through and left her frayed.

It’s not long until the road forks ahead, following the line of a gurgling creek. Evelyn cranes her neck to see around the rider ahead of them. A sign points right to Kald, left to Deklan and the Crossroads.

“Which way will it be, princess?” Ashe asks from the front, looking over their shoulder.

Evelyn doesn’t hesitate in her answer. “Right. We- we go right.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know I have several works that desperately need updating, but with some newfound time on my hands I've decided to try my hand at writing something original. This work has quickly become my baby. I've never plotted anything of this scale before for my own writing, so I don't know how it will turn out, but thank you for giving it a chance!


End file.
